


Desire

by curiouscat99



Series: Reason for living [2]
Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: FOR THE LOVE OF ODIN, IM BLOODY SORRY, JEALOUS THORFINN, M/M, Other, Table Sex, This is NSFW, Thornute, also known as that one fic where thorfinn used his head and remained as canute's bodyguard, canufinn, edmund im sorry man, one sided ednute, this fic is brought to you by our thornute and ednute thirsts, thorfinn x canute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22506256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouscat99/pseuds/curiouscat99
Summary: “You do like him,” a bold statement masked beneath a bitter accusation coming from Thorfinn.Canute almost dropped the comb in his hand, shooting him an incredulous look.
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Series: Reason for living [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656571
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	Desire

**Author's Note:**

> DONT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, I WILL CONTINUE MY MULTICHAPS I SWEAR.
> 
> This fic is the product of the thornute gc I joined recently. Our what ifs and thirsts. LIN AND DITA IF YOU ARE READING THIS IT'S YOUR FAULT.
> 
> I've been writing this at 6AM so bear with me. 
> 
> This is not historically accurate, of course, I am no historian, I'm just a cat. 
> 
> see tags for more info!

The moment he killed Askeladd, Canute never thought Thorfinn would side on him. What made the man stay is still a mystery even on Canute. Nevertheless, it is all in his favor. Thorfinn’s skill is unmatched and he is young. He will grow into someone greater than his father. 

Recalling the day he first landed his gaze upon him, Canute has taken a liking to the young warrior. It isn't just because he is quite good looking despite the grime on his face and filthy clothes. It isn't just because he speaks the truth when no one else around his vicinity would. When everyone seems so fake since the day he wore the crown.

Thorfinn stands behind him like a loyal dog in a conference room, quietly observing and irrevocably bored. If there is something he learned from his decision to stay with Canute, it is that politics is so damn tiring. He cannot wait to finish this shitty task of another day of listening to the painfully boring meeting. He rarely agrees with Thorkell but this time, he is starting to consider that the big oaf has a point when he said war is much more enjoyable than discussions. Just how much of this does Canute need to do before conquering all of England? He wondered and at the same time, wish that this would end soon.

Among them are nobles and fellow bodyguards. Englishmen. And needless to say, he cannot get a bit of what the hell they are talking about. Ah, another reason he is starting to hate his job. Canute once told him to study the language but even before he got a mental image of him sitting and studying for hours, Thorfinn had already thrown the idea out the window.

For a moment, he saw Canute’s eyes dart to his direction. Like a little reminder of something, Thorfinn is doing all the time. _Be alert._ Of fucking course he would, they’re in the enemy territory after all. 

These alone, however, aren’t what’s putting him in an irritable state of mind. In the last few hours, Thorfinn had noticed how the other King of England shoots glances at Canute even when the latter isn’t particularly talking. He lived his life with the evils of men and knows if one hates the other or that someone is not to be trusted. But this guy, Edmund, doesn’t fall in both categories despite being a rival of Canute.

This raised suspicion on Thorfinn’s part. 

Edmund Ironside is the rightful King of England after the death of his father Ethelred. The English and Danes have been in countless battles and for some twist of fate, Edmund called a meeting for a truce. On how did he come up with that conclusion is beyond Thorfinn’s comprehension. Because who in their right mind would agree to divide his land? Let alone share it with a foreign king. For Thorfinn, he could never share anything that belongs to him. 

Canute, on the other hand, seems to have a positive take on this as he willingly complies and goes to a remote island just to meet with his nemesis on which Thorfinn only shrug. It is not his job to give him a damn piece of advice anyway. He’s a bodyguard, not an advisor. 

Thorfinn has lost count how many hours have passed since he had been standing on the side. Fighting an urge to yawn maybe for the seventh time, he adjusted his stance, half glaring at Canute’s back. 

This must be the longest fucking meeting he had ever been. 

Finally, when it has ended, Thorfinn is officially done with the day as Edmund and Canute shake their hands followed by a smile coming from the English King that could be translated into many languages except hate.

Thorfinn is confused. 

* * *

The following days had been contradictory.

Thorfinn frowns as Canute received endless gifts from Edmund. From gold brooches to extravagant hair accessories. 

“Heh,” the warrior folded his arms over chest, leaning on a wall while Canute checks the offerings. “It looks like he sees you like a princess rather than a king.”

If not because he had known Thorfinn’s rude mouth for a year now, Canute would’ve told him to shut up. But doing so wouldn’t change his behavior in any form and Canute learned the hard way how acceptance is the key that he is not and never will be Thorfinn’s King. 

Ignoring, he picks one rhombus-shaped hair clip made with gold. Thorfinn follows the movement of his hand and he can’t deny that the piece would look good on Canute.

“They’re all in good quality,” Canute says. “If anything has taken to your liking, you can have it.”

Thorfinn scowls at the royalty’s words as though he had offended him on purpose. With a smug, he clicked his tongue and turned to leave.

“I have no interest in such pebbles.”

How amusing. For a man who lived his life as a Viking, he has no enjoyment in material possessions and Canute, knowing him for quite some time now can prove it. He once heard Thorkell’s men teasing him about getting laid but Thorfinn’s only answer is a glacial glare that could freeze one’s very soul, a quiet reminder to mind their own fucking business. 

Canute chuckles inwardly upon remembering it, Thorfinn really is something special.

“Then, is there anything that you desire?” 

The question caught him off guard. Thorfinn turned to stone on his way to take his leave. He shifted his attention to Canute, still holding the exquisite hair clip. The King is not looking at him but rather is contemplating how to put the thing on his hair. He only ties it with a simple ribbon and nothing more. Canute never really put anything else other than that.

Thorfinn observes him in silence. He watches Canute reach for two locks of his hair from each side and fasten it with the accessory. Something inside Thorfinn falls and beats faster while the royalty twirls, his long, golden tresses floating in the air, and ask for his opinion but the question falls on deaf ears as Thorfinn remained in a daze.

Desire. He had never thought of something he desired before. After his failure to take Askeladd’s life by his own hands, Thorfinn stopped thinking of anything akin to a goal. The only reason he continues to serve Canute is that Askeladd wouldn’t be around and by that he had no purpose. Even so, he could simply return to Iceland just as Leif keeps on telling him. Yet it never came to his mind, to go back to his homeland, to leave Canute’s side.

_Why?_

“Thorfinn?” Canute looks at him in confusion. “How do I look?” he repeats.

It took him a moment before tearing his gaze to Canute. Thorfinn worries that he would not be able to do so if he stayed a little longer.

* * *

If there is anyone who witnessed the awkwardness of the atmosphere whenever Edmund is close to Canute, it had to be Thorkell. The sight of seeing his great-nephew sulk, grunt and pour his overflowing spite to his sparring partner is starting to both amuse and worry the man. His fret, however, is most directly to the Jomsvikings (who happened to be the only ones willingly wants to train with Thorfinn) as they tend to their broken bodies every single time the boy mercilessly smash them. (They should be grateful that it was a hand to hand combat otherwise they’ll turn into minced meat)

Approaching, Thorkell is hesitant after sighting that the boy is cleaning his pair of short sword (talk about bad timing) slumping on the grassy field of the training ground. If anything it would be a joy in his part should Thorfinn have a duel with him. (Thorkell had a mental note to deal with Canute later due to the King’s prohibition of them to combat without his permission)

“Thorfinn!” 

The said young man didn’t even bat an eye and continue what he's doing. Thorkell grins mischievously before him.

"The King is holding a banquet for yesterday's success." He raised his thumb pointing behind gesturing for Thorfinn to join them. But he is still being ignored by the kid and so Thorkell had to push a few more buttons. 

"I heard Edmund is coming too,"

Thorfinn raises his eyes from the weapons to Thorkell, giving him a sharp and calculating look. 

"Well we are allies now, I guess Canute won't be asking you for protection around him." Thorkell drop the statement with a mocking tone before turning around.

A smirk came across his lips seeing how Thorfinn raised from where he is and marches forwards, passing him.

* * *

The two Kings decided to divide the power to rule England. Both sides agreed that Canute is to rule Northumbria and Danish Mercia while Edmund takes Wessex, Essex, East Anglia, and English Mercia. With that, Canute had called a feast to celebrate their new-found peace. However, at the rear of this arrangement, the Danish King knows that it is not a long term solution to fulfill his dream, to build his paradise. 

Edmund smiles at him tenderly, his amber eyes glowing strangely every time their eyes meet. They share polite conversation, wine in hand, sitting from an elevated floor as they watch their vassal and warriors merrymaking. There is something in the way the English King stares longingly at the Danish royal and it is not lost on Canute. Edmund has taken a liking to him and it is all over his facade.

“I haven’t seen that man,” Edmund states as he took another sip of his wine. 

Canute pauses and looks at him.

“Your bodyguard, perhaps?”

“Oh,” he looks at his warriors and sighted Willibald who just defeated another contestant on a drinking game. The rest of the men are howling at their amusement.

“Thorfinn, well, I haven’t seen him yet,” Canute replies, his eyes wandering across the hall hoping to find the said man.

Edmund follows his gaze until it lands on Thorkell who just arrived and speaking of the devil, Thorfinn is walking beside him with the same, valiant countenance. 

“He is young just like you,” the English King continues, resting his chin on the back of his hand. Just as expected, Thorfinn’s eyes bounced from the crowd to the Kings on the left side of the hall. It’s like sensing your own master like a loyal wolf and Edmund’s amusement rose. 

“Thorfinn is a loyal vassal and an exceptional warrior. I do trust him with my life.” Canute has no idea where the words came from. He just wants to give Edmund the idea of what Thorfinn is to him but it seems the words he chose didn’t hit the right spot. Either way, he has to be extra careful about the things he is saying or his weakness would come out in the open. 

Edmund nods at his statement interestingly “I can see that he’s very protective of you.”

The bold remark left him dumbfounded. Canute blinks at Edmund then scans to find Thorfinn and is surprised to see how he slumped across Willibald. It is not new for Thorkell to push him to drink and join the fun every time there is a treat but this is the first time Thorfinn obliged. The men roar in delight, patting the young warrior’s back while they set their drinks. Meanwhile, Edmund continues to babble but Canute could only hear a few words as he is at most half listening. His replies are either a nod or an unenthusiastic smile. 

Thorfinn takes his first swig, second and third. He can feel the bitter alcohol oozing in his throat. Fuck, he curses under his breath. This booze is stronger than he thought. Well, what else could he expect from the alcoholic priest? Sometimes he wonders if the man is mere human drinking intoxicating liquor every day. 

The men cheered for Willibald loudly in the background and as he takes his turn, Thorfinn’s line of sight catches the chattering Kings. An unpleasant hunch starts to grow in his core. 

“Your turn again, Thorfinn!” a man sets another drink.

Thorfinn angrily grabs the drinking horn and quickly down it. His face twisting at the disgusting taste of the ale added by the scene playing in his mind. Canute’s smile is warm, just like the stupid alcohol he’s drinking and when he laughs, a part of him glimmers. But the smile is not directed to him and it makes Thorfinn want to choke someone, pull a sword and end the one who is causing his misery.

Fuck Edmund and the entire plane of England. If he is willing to share his damn land with Canute then Thorfinn is different for there is no way in hell he will share Canute with anyone else. Fuck that and fuck him.

Thorfinn leaves the table with shaky legs and Willibald once again is hailed as the winner. Thorkell get a hold of the young warrior before completely passing out after finishing twenty bottles.

* * *

Once the feast is done, Canute goes to his workroom to get the book he has yet to finish. It is already late in the evening but being a King somewhat screwed up his sleeping schedule and ends up going to his bed behind time. Candle in hand, the door creaks as it open, his shadow looming over the pile of books on his wide, rectangular table. He put the candle down and arrange his unfinished paperwork when he heard footsteps coming. Canute pauses but carries on thinking it must be some patrolling guards.

The sound of footfall came to a halt until suddenly, a person made a barbaric push on the door trespassing his space. 

Canute snaps his head behind him with a frown but it soon changes, seeing who it is.

“Tho..Thorfinn!” 

The said man’s hand is placed at the door while the other is inside his pocket. His eyes are languid and he looks defeated, an expression that Canute have not seen before. It is very different from his reaction after Askeladd’s death. Back then, there is only confused sadness with a hint of fury but this..is something indescribable.

“You scared me,” Canute shakes his head and turns to compile the papers on a box. “Why are you here? Is there anything--”

A bolt of apprehension came rushing as he saw Thorfinn approach him like a predator to its prey. The scent of alcohol gets stronger in every step he makes. Canute freezes on his spot muttering only the obvious question.

“Are you drunk? You should rest…” the King says concernedly with the inkling nervousness in his tone. Thorfinn doesn’t drink to the point of getting wasted and from then, he knows that he is not behaving normally.

“And what if I am?” Thorfinn replies daringly, his lips curving into a wretched smile as he shut the door behind.

“Thorfinn…” Canute gulps, he could not believe what he had just heard. This Thorfinn is different, way too different from his normal self. He steps back only to bump on the table he just cleaned from the mess of his work. 

“What do you want?” Canute asks, unsure if he should be scared or worried about the way his bodyguard is acting. Or maybe he could be both.

 ** _“You.”_** Thorfinn is calm yet so dangerous at the same time. 

The King tries to open his mouth to say something but before he could, Thorfinn is already in front of him. Canute steps back again and loses his balance causing him to fall hard on the table. Now Thorfinn is towering him as the other eyes at him with sterling desire.

Only in his wildest dreams would Canute think about doing what happened next as Thorfinn crashed his lips to his. The kiss is sloppy, (it isn't their first kiss anymore but it is the first time they did it....willingly? not counting the time Thorfinn drowned when they got lost together and Canute had to resuscitate him.) but soon they find the right tempo and it goes from careless to wild. Canute accepted him, wrapping his arms around the shorter male and Thorfinn complies, going on top of him. He could taste the bitter alcohol Thorfinn drank earlier.

“Thorfinn..” Canute lets out a gasp to catch his breath and grunts as Thorfinn slips his palm on the royalty’s bare skin. His hands are all over Canute’s body. The shorter male kisses him from his jaws to his neck down to his chest while pulling the upper part of his clothes downwards, leaving marks.

Canute reminded himself to take control of the situation but as they go on, he is slowly losing himself. 

“Off,” Thorfinn commands and the Danish King lets him undress him, layer by layer. He could not take his eyes off Thorfinn while doing everything he had been secretly dreaming of and grabs his face to kiss him passionately. 

The initiative provokes Thorfinn even more and he undresses on top of Canute with the now exposed body. His hands roaming freely on Canute’s sensitive spots and the royalty moans from his touch. Canute squeaks and instantly covers his mouth in embarrassment when Thorfinn pats a ticklish part of him - his stomach. The shorter one glances and simpered at the reaction.

“Ticklish princess,” he teases.

Even in the dim room, he could see Canute’s pale white skin, untouched and smooth just like he has always imagined. 

“Thorfinn, you said you want me?” Canute asks instilling silence between them.

Instead of answering right away, the man in question locks their lips again with the desperation of need and want. They caress each other’s bare skin.

“....so much,” Thorfinn mumbles.

Canute shivers, his blood runs hot thinking of the body on top of him, of Thorfinn confessing to him, of Thorfinn wanting him. Before he could say anything, the shorter male spread his legs apart and from then he could feel the hardness of his cock. 

“P-please….”

Thorfinn looks at him with an impulse. He can still remember the Canute he first met, the meek princess, far from the Canute below him but it didn’t matter because Thorfinn he likes them both, past, present and even future. 

Thorfinn adjusts himself and slowly pushes two fingers inside him. Canute gasps in surprise but finds it to be gentle, so infuriatingly gentle. Thorfinn alternately thrust his fingers and curl his fingers inside the Danish King, nipping at the skin on Canute’s shoulder. 

“Ah!” 

  
Thorfinn wants him to scream his name and forget about everything. He let go and decided to hell with foreplay as he is getting hard by hearing Canute’s moans. He positioned himself and Canute’s eyes widened when Thorfinn pushed himself inside him. Being both virgins, it is rough at first but soon they both pick up the pace. Canute threw his head back, seeing stars on each thrust Thorfinn is making. His nails subconsciously digging on the young warrior’s back, his mouth is open but nothing coherent came out save for moans and occasional cries of Thorfinn’s name, forgetting the possibility that some patrolling guards might hear them. Both of them completely indulge on each other’s bodies, each other’s warmth, feeding each other’s satiety.

Thorfinn slams the table with his fist as he goes deeper and faster inside Canute. The sensation is so intense that Canute, who never curse before, swears. The King reaches for anything that could keep him sane but couldn’t so he grabbed Thorfinn’s nape and pull him downwards to crash with his lips. They shared another round of kiss with Thorfinn’s tongue darting inside his mouth. Canute feels that he is going to come and grunts, finding a voice to speak.

“Fuck!”

They both came at the same time and the release brought them a weakness. Thorfinn rolls on his side as both of them pants heavily. Canute wants to say something but his voice died in his throat when Thorfinn held him tight, burying his nose on the royalty’s neck.

“I hate it,” 

His words confused Canute to no end. He hates what exactly? Distraught to hear something he might not like, he gazes at Thorfinn’s face and waits for an explanation.

“When you’re with that cunt.” he continues

Canute is puzzled for a moment and think of anyone whom Thorfinn is referring to until he remembers the silent glare his bodyguard is giving whenever Edmund is around. Of course, it has to be him.

They stay quiet for a while with only the sound of their breathing. They both fell asleep before they realize. But in the middle of the night, Canute shivers from the cold and proceeds to get the thick blanket from one of his drawers in his workplace which he thankfully keeps just in case he’s too tired to go to sleep on his bedroom.

* * *

_Thorfinn had a strange dream but unlike in the past, whereas he will jolt after a nightmare, this one is weirdly pleasant. It is still bloody, daggers in hands, he pummels the weapon in someone’s chest leaving them swimming in their blood. A smile of satisfaction grace his lips. Finally, the asshole is dead._

When he wakes up, Thorfinn stares at the familiar room filled with..books? He scratches his eyes using the back of his hand and asked no one in particular, why is it freezing cold. It just came to him that he is naked from head to toe after peeking beneath the blanket wrapped around him. Wheezing, he gets up and is shocked to see Canute standing before him.

The Dane casually meets his gaze, hiding the uncomfortable feeling then turn his back at him and continue to dress. He slips one arm after the other in his long sleeves shirt.

Thorfinn blinks and then a realization hit him on how and why exactly did he end up spending the whole night in Canute’s office. He can remember going to the feast last night, Thorkell pushing him to compete with Willibald, him getting drunk. He eventually passed out after the contest but before that he recalled why did he eagerly drink.

“Oh shit,” he holds his head with both hands, eyes widening in horror, heart beating faster when he finally recollects what happened.

Canute takes a comb from his drawer and he flinches when Thorfinn makes a sound of revulsion. It seems that the warrior is having a mental battle between talking with him or simply bolting outside and never to return again from the way he looks. Sighing, Canute hands him his clothes.

Thorfinn stares at his neatly folded garments then back to Canute who faces his back at him and continues to comb his hair.

“Whatever happens last night…” the bodyguard began, after a long, awkward silence.

“You were drunk.” Canute answers as though easing him that an excuse isn’t needed. 

“And you were not.” 

Canute stops combing his hair and looks at him but is unsure of what to say. Thorfinn is too good to make him shut up like always, to give him stress and find the right words. He gathered all his strength to bring the topic once and for all.

“About... Edmund,” he stammers, surely it is one hell of a way to open up.

Thorfinn’s facade darkens and grabs his clothes to get dressed as well.

“You do like him,” a bold statement masked beneath a bitter accusation coming from Thorfinn.

Canute almost dropped the comb on his hand, shooting him an incredulous look.

“It is not him who I like!” he surprised both himself and Thorfinn on the way he pressed his words. Canute knows he messed up. There he goes again on failing to choose the wise words when it comes to Thorfinn. He could have simply said “no, I don’t like him.” but instead gives an indicator that he does like someone else. 

Thorfinn, who is already dressed, sniggers and Canute braces himself for an incoming mockery.

“Then the princess likes someone? I wonder who.” Thorfinn jumps off the table where they share their most intimate moment and spent the night together, huddling to keep the night as warm as possible, enclosed by a single blanket. He steps forward searching for Canute’s eyes but the King averts his gaze with a blush creeping on his face.

“I...I do not like Edmund. He’s an enemy. My rival.” he states firmly.

“I thought you are allies now after dividing England.” Thorfinn states in a manner of pushing Canute to confess but the King remained still.

Canute clenches his fists, cheeks heating up and turns around to leave. It is almost unthinkable how Thorfinn would say he likes Edmund and that he considers the other King an ally. It is maddening, really, and Canute thinks of something that would erase the idea on Thorfinn’s mind.

The young warrior chuckles. It’s pathetic to think that the King himself exits on his own workroom after being pushed on the edge.

* * *

Days, and eventually weeks have passed, Thorkell has found something interesting on the way Thorfinn and Canute shares a glance from across each other no matter how much their distance. Little by little, he notices how he is not the only one who has awareness in this matter as the other people in the Danish forces keep on gossiping about what the King and his bodyguard are doing behind closed doors. 

The man is on his way to Canute’s office when he heard the news coming from a messenger. As usual, Thorfinn and Gunnar are also inside and the boy with a passive face slowly turning into stunned. Thorkell didn’t bother to knock and proceeds to enter, curious about the news. 

Edmund Ironside has died of an ‘illness’

And as the truce says, all of England will fall on Canute’s hand. 

Thorkell huffs and shakes his head as he looks at him “Sly kid.” and mumbles. If that’s the case then there will be no war to happen anymore which annoys him the most. Then what is the sense he is invited to hear this anyway? Grumbling, he pushes the door open to walk out but not after his eye caught Thorfinn who raises from his seat while Canute is still talking with the messenger. Intrigued, Thorkell follows his nephew.

“Say, would you mind a sparring match?” the King’s bodyguard asks.

Thorkell’s only remaining eye almost drops from its socket and thinks he might’ve misheard him. But Thorfinn stops and waits for him to catch up which confirms the surprising offer.

“Sure! Holy shit, I thought you would never in this lifetime ask!” Thorkell’s laughter echoes in the alleyway. The joy of dueling his nephew is even better than battling weaklings in a war. 

He doesn’t quite grasp the exact reason why the boy is asking him for a spar but one thing is for sure;

Thorfinn is in hella good mood. 

* * *

[of gossip and truth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527703) (kind of a continuation fic for Desire)


End file.
